#imsosorry
Claw marks on the walls
Cover my vision
All I can see
All I can breath
The sea of green that blankets me
There's been a breach
In cell sixteen
Ripped and picked clean
Sound of broken glass
A broken voice?
And soon all is silence except a sound cannot be described
Realises he must be the last
A son at the end of the corridor screams out for dads help
Shifting and phasing, a pulsating mass
These are dreams
I am he and he is I
Who am I then
Am I even me?
Senseless makes you panic
Panic makes it easier to rip and pull you clean
A whispering voice drills into the psyche
Funk plays in the distance
A favourite band
Followed by screaming you've never heard
Followed by the soundscape and the clawing
Follow it
Good.
Good ******* God
Wake up
The claw marks still pressing
The sickness inside
Find it
The only way
He's escaped from cell sixteen
Find him in his hole
The hole there
Yes
The hole there!
Climb in and find it
Pick and pull it clean
Can't take it back now
We've found a new home
A new home
A new home
A new home
A new home
A new home
A comfy rocking chair
A nice new home in cell sixteen
Feb 16, 2021
Feb 16, 2021 at 10:13 PM UTC
I lost a friend yesterday to suicide.
He drove through a telephone poll.
This is for you Jake.
I've never felt so lost or so broken
I can't even think of words to write a poem
My heart goes out to all of his family and friends
Who knows if the pain ever ends
I wish he was here
Why did he have to disappear?
Jan 26, 2018
Jan 26, 2018 at 9:17 PM UTC
I missed you.
Oh how I missed you; like a wandering
traveller waiting for the new light on the darkened
foreign streets to everywhere.
And so our travels go like this…
Like the traveller delayed, already departed from home,
yet still searching for the next greatest ambition, dream, landscape of contentment
I felt the sludge of home-sickness;
a deepened breath when I heard from you again.
And to keep the sick down;
I realised what I hadn’t been able to say;
words choking my throat, razor edges skimming,
drawing slivered cracks in my breath.
I realised my feet had been standing still the entire time,
out of phone calls and the sound of smiles from the other line,
a companionship was never too hard to resist from you.
The tricky little games of life and feeling weren’t so stressful to navigate,
compass, map, rushed footsteps dancing along the roads to you.
Neither were your hands ever unwanted;
you could carve such brilliant sculptures of me with your fingers,
roaming, heated, the quickened pulse under mingling collarbones.
Lying with you reminded me of your talents, your greatness
that integrity and solid stillness out of place anywhere
but with
you.
A picture postcard of me and you.
Coming together again on beaten, dusty paths of the sweat and painfully
sharp air we breathe,
a kiss.
Was all it took.
I returned home all over again.
My feet were still standing still.
The miss, the bursting heart, hot and explosive to rekindle everything.
I divulged what ticked over in my head, the beats my heart skipped over you.
Blurted it out over the fear that
what is gone is completely gone.
Taking a step back to take that step forward again.
I made you reconnect with all your burdens;
over me and everything we touched together.
*** returned to the table, but I found out I know longer
wanted to own it, want flowers placed in a vase without purpose.
And we all went back again;
I missed our friendship, our coupled retreat, I missed how we used to simply be.
But I can learn to regret the risky flights I took with you,
and the physical became one.
The sad truth, is that I will never be able to stay at home forever.
I need to tell you I miss you but I also can’t be with you forever.
Paths are not worn down, they are not trekked, nor found
at the end if I am resting, waiting,
for them all to meet me.
I feel sorry for returning home, knowing my bags are already filled
for another adventure, another place.
But I can’t take home with me.
I can’t take you with me.
I feel sorry for making you dredge it up for no reason,
for lies, for misinterpretation;
I wanted to tell you before you opened up to it, to save you from shame.
And now I wrap my arms around myself,
to shield against the lonely slow footsteps I take now,
bags packed full of me, to take with me and remind myself,
of who I am, and where I will be going;
Don’t think I don’t feel despicable;
about making you feel about your feelings for me again, for no reason in the end.
I can only feel guilty and sick to the core for so long.
But now I wander. I can still love you
like home,
but I can also be free.
Aug 19, 2016
Aug 19, 2016 at 6:38 AM UTC
I'm sorry I couldn't help you,
I was trying to help myself.
I'm sorry I didn't see the cuts,
I was busy trying to stop the blood,
I'm sorry I didn't love you sooner,
I was trying to love myself.
I'm sorry I can't be there all the time,
I have to try hard to be there to eat dinner.
I'm sorry I didn't push you to eat more,
I was trying to choke down my lunch.
I'm sorry
So so sorry
Jan 6, 2016
Jan 6, 2016 at 2:22 AM UTC
It's that time of year again
I hoped that no one would ever be
As wary of the season
As frightened of it as me
The loss of life is treacherous
The pain of it never ends
Whether it was someone you once knew
Or one of your closest friends
I'm so sorry to everyone
Who felt this loss today
I'm sorry for this season
I wish it hadn't gone this way
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 1:34 AM UTC
*You see,
I am an artist
I draw with silver
But it comes out red*
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 1:49 AM UTC
Just like the song that we sang on the top of our lungs together.
"And just maybe you're gonna be the one that saves me".
And at the end you really did save me, you were the net to my fall.
I know I saved you as well, you use to say that you didn't feel so small.
But that's not all.
On your saddest days when there was no hope to be found.
I reminded you that I would always stick around.
I told you that you had an artist style.
That always make you smile.
But that took a while.
Although you called me your best friend.
You treated me like I was dead.
It was as if the softest silk was suddenly sand paper.
I didn't understand what you wanted me to do.
I cared the most of all the people you knew.
But when I skipped school on Monday.
Because I felt sick to my stomach thinking about it.
That very night I wrote the letter.
The letter that took until 1am because I kept crying on the paper.
The letter that broke our friendship apart.
Tuesday, April 21. Our friendship was over.
I handed you the letter and I walked away.
I regretted the moment I did so.
I wanted to walk back and say sorry.
I'm sorry, Wonderwall.
It's been over a month since we've talked.
I heard you haven't been your best.
I hope you know you can always come to me.
But you probably hate me anyways.
I hope you find peace Hayley, I'm sorry.
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 2:44 AM UTC
I can't remember when you left,
It seems you were always leaving,
into the night, behind feathered trees,
and when the rain hit you,
you pretended you didn't feel anything
"I don't want to talk about my dad," you'd say
That unholy narcissist left bruises on you,
that you hid from us all
I wish you'd said your mother was a villain ,
who tried to send you to heaven,
but only succeeded in making you bleed;
a memory that resurfaced,
as the devil's stigmata,
on your wrists
You're the girl in a coma,
and have been since I met you,
who fell in love with her doctor,
the day she almost died
Her am I wondering,
are you alive?
Or are you a ghost,
haunting Christ Church,
continuing to do the only thing
that made you happy
I'm sorry you're gone,
your phone ringing out,
your profile a tombstone
I wish I could go,
go to your home
and ring your doorbell
without the fear of being told,
The girl in a coma has left,
not behind the trees,
into the dark,
but to the place her mother tried to send her,
not long after she took her first breath
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 4:00 PM UTC
The unknown holds to so many possibilities;
Our mind can create whatever outcome it desires,
Despite our own.
Negativity destroys everything in its path,
Burning hope and summoning depressed feelings,
Offering no way out of the madness.
I want to be positive,
But I just feel like I ruined things again,
And it hurts trying to imagine how she feels.
To go from her escape
To someone she can't even talk to anymore,
A lot would have to change.
So if I'm that much of a ****
I keep singing I'm an ******* baby-
I'm truly beyond sorry
I didn't mean to hurt you
Or cause issues in any way
I just hope that your ok.
Jun 3, 2014
Jun 3, 2014 at 1:38 AM UTC